I have no desire to find out. The situation is quite complicated enough as it is. Perhaps this is just a rivalry between girl-cousins. I wish I understood Henja’s role in all this. Is she just some dotty old woman? Or more? Are you quite sure it was her?
Quite. It had not been just my eyes that confirmed it, but I would not tell Chade I had scented her, and that enough of the wolf remained in me to be certain of that sense.
Our conversation had wearied Chade and I let him go to his rest. I checked to be sure the cottage door was latched, and then regretfully closed the window shutters as well. I did not like sleeping in such a tightly closed place. I always slept best when I could feel air moving freely on my face, but after my sighting of Henja that day, I would not give anyone the opportunity to have a clear shot at me.
Such was my frame of mind as I settled myself for sleep, and the next morning, I tried to use it to account for my nightmares. Yet it was not fair to call my dreams that. There was nothing of terror in them, only uneasiness, and a vividness that was not Skill-walking, but something else. I dreamed of the Fool as he had been once, not as Lord Golden but as a pale, frail lad with colourless eyes. In that guise, he bestrode the stone dragon behind Girl on a Dragon, and together they rose into the blue skies. But then suddenly he became Lord Golden, and as he rode behind the carved and soulless girl that was a part of the dragon sculpture that he had called back to wakefulness and life, a black and white cloak fluttered out on the wind behind him. His hair was pulled back sleek and tight from his face and bound back like a warrior’s tail. His expression was so set and stern that he looked as soulless as the Girl whose slender waist he clasped. His hands were bare, I saw in surprise, for it had been a very long time since I had seen him do anything ungloved. Higher they rose into the sky, and higher still, and then suddenly he lifted his hand and pointed, and the girl kneed the dragon to fly in the direction of that slender, pointing finger. Then clouds cloaked them as if mist enfolded them. I stirred from sleep to find my own fingers set to my wrist in the pale prints he had once left there. I shifted in my bedding but could not seem to come back to full wakefulness. Pulling my blanket more tightly around me, I surrendered to sleep again.
And then I did Skill-walk in my dreams, to a most disturbing scene. Nettle sat and chatted with Tintaglia on a grassy hillside. I knew it was a dream of Nettle’s making, for never had flowers blossomed so brightly, nor bloomed so evenly throughout the grass. It reminded me of a carefully worked tapestry. The dragon was the size of a horse, and crouched in a way that was not quite threatening. I stepped into the dream. Nettle’s back was very straight and her voice nearly brittle as she demanded of the dragon, ‘And what has any of that to do with me?’
And in a silent aside to me, Why did you delay? Didn’t you feel me summoning you?
‘I can hear that, you know,’ Tintaglia pointed out calmly. ‘And he did not hear you summoning him because I did not wish him to. So, you see, you are quite alone, if I decide you are.’ The dragon suddenly turned her cold gaze on me. Beauty had fled her reptile eyes, leaving them spinning gems of fury. ‘A fact that does not escape you, either, I assume.’
‘What do you want?’ I demanded of her.
‘You know what I want. I want to know what you know of a black dragon. Is he real? Does another dragon, grown and whole, still exist in the world?’
‘I don’t know,’ I answered her truthfully. I could feel her mind plucking at mine, trying to get past the words I gave her to see if I was hiding anything. It was like having cold rat feet run over you in a prison cell at night. Then she seized that memory and tried to turn it against me. I slammed my walls tighter. Unfortunately that meant that Nettle was also outside them. They both became like shadows dimly cast on a wavering curtain.
Tintaglia spoke, and her voice reached me like a whisper of doom. ‘Accept that your kind will serve mine. It is the natural order of things. Serve me in this and I will see that you and yours prosper. Defy me, and you and yours will be swept aside.’ Suddenly the image of the dragon loomed large and towered over Nettle. ‘Or devoured,’ she offered knowingly.
Dread prickled at me. On some fundamental level, the dragon associated me with Nettle. Was it simply that she had always reached me through my daughter, or did she sense our kinship? Did it matter? My daughter was in danger, and it was my fault. Again. And I had no idea how to protect her.
It did not matter. A moment ago the flower-studded meadow had reminded me of a tapestry. Then Nettle abruptly stood up, bent and seized her dream, then shook it as if she sought to shake dust from a rug. The dragon’s presence was flung from it and went spinning off into nothingness, dwindling as it went. In that nothingness, Nettle stood and wadded up her dream and tucked it into her apron pocket. I no longer knew where or what I was in her dream, but she sent the words to me. You’ll have to learn to stand up to her and drive her off, not just curl up in a ball and hide. Remember, Shadow Wolf, that you are a wolf. Not a mouse. Or so I thought. She began to fade.
Wait! The Prince Skilled with desperate determination. In some way I did not understand, he caught at her and detained her. Who are you?
Nettle’s shock went through me like a wave. She struggled a moment, but when his grip held, she demanded, Who am I? Who are you, who dare to intrude here so rudely? Let go of me.
Dutiful did not react well to her rebuke. Who am I? I am the Prince of all the Six Duchies. I go wherever I will.
For a moment, she was stunned to silence. Then, You are the Prince? Her disbelief was as evident as her scorn.
Yes, I am. And now you will stop wasting my time and tell me who you are! I winced at the snap of command in his voice. A terrible silent void stretched all around me. Then Nettle reacted as I had known she would.
Oh. Well, of course I will, since you ask me so nicely. Prince Mannerless, I am Queen I-Doubt-It-Very-Much of the Seven Dungheaps. And perhaps you go “wherever you will”, but when the where belongs to me, I will that you do not ever go there. Changer, you should cultivate nicer friends.
I saw what she had done. In the pause, she had seen exactly how he had fastened himself to her. And now, effortlessly, she shook herself free of him. And vanished.
I jolted awake with her disdain rattling against me like flung pebbles. Torn between awe for my daughter and dread of the dragon, I tried to recover myself. I needed to think what I could do. Instead, Chade pushed his way into my mind.
We need to talk. Privately. His Skill trembled with excitement.
Privately? Are you sure you know what the word means? Why, tonight of all nights, did he have to spy on me?